My Family
As he paced the hospital hallways, Tony was sure he had gotten his steps in for the next decade, practically burning skid marks into the floor with the ferocity with which he marched.
The car ride to the hospital had easily been one of his worst drives. The fact that we didn’t have Peter’s vitals right away was eating away at him like a leech. He barely heard Pepper reassuring him over the phone that she had gotten all hospital staff to sign NDAs and that there’d be no complications due to Peter’s enhanced healing.
He was jittery. Shaking hands raking through his hair, eyes going in and out of focus, his footsteps sounding like an explosion in the quiet –too quiet– hallways of the local hospital.
He fell on an uncomfortable metal waiting chair as he got a notification from Happy: “Got May. On our way to the tower.”
He rubbed his forehead, more glad than ever for his support team, not knowing how he would ever function without them, and abruptly flinched away from his hands when the nauseating smell of dried blood hit his nostrils.
Looking down he noted the blood on his clothes, his pants and shirt stained with the coarse residue of dried blood.
Gripping the handles of the chair tightly –so tight that blood flaked off his skin– he leaned his head against the wall behind him and closed his eyes, trying his best to stave off any images of the night- blood gushing from Peter’s side, the bloody knife lying in his home, Peter’s blissful face as he passed out, his body being carried away from him as all he did was stare at Peter’s slack, bloodied face-
“Tony… Stark-?”
He jerked to consciousness, barely suppressing a wince as the harsh fluorescent lights of the hallways met his eyes. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep.
“Yea, that’s-” he stood up to notice a nurse standing in the hallway with a record file in his hands, eyes blinking as if trying to believe what he was seeing.
“That’d be me. How’s Peter?”
The nurse nodded, his star-struck nature disappearing and professionalism taking over his tone, “He’s in stable condition now. The doctors did have to use a higher dosage of anesthesia than they’d be comfortable with, but Peter’s… abilities should overcome if and any side-effects.”
Tony sighed, restless as he picked at the blood on his fingers, “Can I see him now?”
The nurse nodded, “He’s currently sedated to allow his body to deal with the minor injuries, but you can go to his room. 408, just down the hallway.”
“Thank you. Thank you very much.”
Tony entered the room with his heart lodged in his throat.
Butterfly bandages covered the majority of Peter’s young, pale face. His hands were laid atop a blanket reaching till his torso, oximeter on one of the fingers. The monitor and ECG machine beside his bed beeped in confirmation to his steady levels.
He looked so small on the bed.
Not like Spider-Man who was able to withstand the weight of a five-ton loading platform (Steve had apologized to Peter every day for a year), who absolutely rekt both the Falcon and the Winter Soldier just to impress him (“We were going easy on him!” “Yeah, whatever you say Barnes.”), and who lifted an entire warehouse off his back (Tony almost had an aneurysm when he learned about it).
In that all too big hospital bed, he wasn’t Spider-Man. He was just Peter.
His Peter.
His feet shakingly took him to the chair beside his bed. He sat down and took Peter’s hand in both of his, careful of the faded bruises, and pressed a kiss to their adjoined hands.
This was by no means his first time seeing Peter lay still in a hospital bed. With his Spidey activities, selfless attitude, and the nickname Danger Magnet, Peter had –much to Tony’s dismay– found himself in the tower’s medic room more times than Tony’s blood pressure would like.
This was, however, the first time Peter had been attacked at his home. The cabin. A place Tony had built as a sanctuary to get away from the horrors that had seized his life at the time.
He remembered waking up after he had passed out due to the strain of shouting at Cap. Remembered how… uncertain he was. The restlessness he felt without Peter’s presence, was only comparable to that of a parent losing a child. He had spiraled hard. Questioning his life as a superhero.
What was the point of any of it, what was the point of being good, when the universe kept stealing from him?
It was ultimately Pepper who had got him together. Joined the pieces of a man who’d been shattered after witnessing his son disintegrating in his arms. It was she who’d suggested they take a break from the city and build a cabin in Georgia, surrounded by nature and wildlife. It was the cabin where Tony had placed a photo of him and the kid. It was the cabin where he and Pepper had had Morgan. It was the cabin where Tony had figured out Time-travel which brought everyone back.
The same cabin whose floorboards were now stained with Peter’s blood.
Tony took a deep breath, the deepest he could manage, and exhaled stutteringly as he caressed the mop of brown curls that rested on the kid’s head before pressing his forehead to their hands.
The pain had hit Peter like a freight car.
His face ached. The smallest twitch in his expression caused an avalanche of agony. His head felt as if it was used as a stomping ground for the beats of ‘We Will Rock You’. His body pulsated with each of the many throbbing bruises. But the award for worst pain was won by his abdomen. It felt like someone had impaled him with a stick made of conc. HCl. The burning sensation spread from his side to each and every part of his body like a frickin earthquake.
Suffice to say, he preferred the numbness.
The last thing he remembered before passing out was Mr Stark.
He had felt Mr Stark’s hands holding his face. Had seen him through a haze of colours which was his vision. He had felt Mr Stark’s arms cocooning him, protecting him from every danger the world could throw at him.
Most importantly, he had felt safe as he lost the fight to consciousness.
And sure enough, even as he crawled his way back to consciousness, he felt that net of safety surrounding him.
He was propped halfway upright in a hospital bed, judging by the smell of antiseptic and the beeping of various monitors. He felt sticky bandages adhering to his cheekbones and temples. He also felt slight pressure on one of his fingers along with the feel of warm, rough hands enclosing his own.
His eyes fluttered open to the dim lights of the room, and connected to the person at his bedside-
“AGH! Holy shit-!”
Mr Stark’s face snapped up to look at him, equal parts delight, confusion, and tension on his face, “Hey, Underoos! What happened, does anything hurt? Are you okay?”
“Are you… Am I? Have you seen yourself? You look like you stepped out of the set of ‘The Walking Dead’!”
Mr Stark had stood up out of concern, face blank as his words registered. When they did, he sat down with a defeated huff (that might have been a laugh?) and ruffled his hair, “You know, you’ve got some nerve kid, I’ll give you that.”
Peter chuckled uncertainly as the sight of blood on Mr Stark’s shirt brought with it the onslaught of memories as echoes of the night filtered through his still foggy brain. His Spidey sense tingling, three perpetrators, the fight, Morgan finding him-
“Morgan!” he sat up, wincing and bringing a hand to his side as his bandages protested.
“Hey! Careful-” Mr Stark put a hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him back into the bed. He then made eye contact with him and Peter was surprised to see the fierce pride in them, “Morgan is okay, all thanks to you. She should be on her way along with Rhodey and Pepper. Happy and May agreed to meet us at the tower. You did good, kid.”
Peter sighed in relief and sagged against the lumpy bed. He couldn’t fathom the thought of what would have happened to Morgan had he not been there
“I’m glad she’s okay,” he said, earnestly.
Tony looked at him with a warm look, eyes crinkling with a smile, “I’m glad both my kids are okay. I’m proud of you Peter.”
Peter blushed furiously and ducked his head to hide his embarrassingly victorious smile. He remembered how desperate he used to be for Mr Stark’s attention and approval, his mind recalling the mortifying amounts of texts he used to assault Happy with (thank you brain for that core memory).
After the blip, Mr Stark had changed.
And in the best ways possible.
He seemed much more happy, more at ease than Peter had ever seen him. He proudly laughs at his own stupid jokes boisterously, lighting up every room and every conversation. The same Mr Stark who had somehow managed to make an arm around the shoulder awkward as heck was now unapologetically affectionate. Ruffling his hair, playfully shoving him, even hugging him (not grabbing for the door!), all seemed to come as naturally to him as breathing.
“Don’t think that means you wouldn’t get a joint lecture from me and May as soon as we get you home.”
“What.”
“You got stabbed-”
“-not like I asked him to-!”
He heard the door open.
Mr Stark squinted as he leaned back, “Saved by the belle.”
“What- Morgan!”
“Petey!”
The little bundle of adorable barreled at him with the full force of a squealing rabbit, dodging around Tony and settling herself beside Peter, coiling her whole body around his arm as tightly as she could.
“Moguna, careful. He’s still hurt.”
“It doesn’t hurt,” Peter protested.
It did hurt. But he wasn’t going to let a little pain stop him from hugging her back. Tony raised a brow at him, knowing all too well that he was lying. Peter smiled at him and shrugged, basically asking for permission to lie.
Tony rolled his eyes with no heat behind the action and took Pepper’s hand as she settled beside him.
“Peter, you okay, now?” Morgan asked, her voice muffled.
“I am great now that you are here.”
“Okay,” she confirmed, making no move to detach herself from him.
Pepper asked him with just her eyes if he was okay and he confirmed with an assuring nod. A peaceful silence hugged the room as everyone reeled with the events of the day. Finally, the silence broke as-
“Petey?”
“Hm?”
“Why is Daddy cosplaying as a Zombie?”
“It’s because he is old as fu-”
“Oi-!”